


What Changes and What Stays the Same

by laireshi



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Nero doesn't quite know what it means to have a father, and Vergil doesn't completely understand how to be one. They learn together.





	What Changes and What Stays the Same

**Author's Note:**

> A shout-out to vorokis for the final line!

It's idiotic, what Nero is doing. 

He doesn't need to study Vergil like a statue in an art museum that he might as well be for how still he is, memorizing his features, every line of his face and the light playing in his icy blue eyes. He already knows his face and his voice from years of watching Dante, even if their expressions are nothing alike and their manner of speaking couldn't be more different if they tried.

But it's different now.

He doesn't have to look hard for the obvious similarities: their hair, their eyes, their inhuman heritage. He'd never noticed, with Dante—his father was never in Nero's life and for all his absence was obvious, mostly because of how Nero was treated due to it, Nero never went looking for him in every man of the appropriate age he met.

And now there he is, Nero's homicidal, genocidal, almost fratricidal and filicidal deadbeat dad, and Nero doesn't like how he can't deny the similarities running deeper than their appearance.

_No_.

Nero isn't like Vergil. And he won't let his genes dictate the kind of a man he is, now that he finally knows his own history.

Vergil is seated on the sofa in Dante's office, though Dante himself has cleared out some time earlier. The Yamato is lying across his lap and his fingers rest on its scabbard, deceptively gentle, like it wouldn't take him a fraction of a second to draw his blade and another fraction to stab it through someone's heart.

He hasn't said a word to Nero yet after welcoming him. Nero meant to wait him out, but he's rapidly discovering his father is more patient than he is.

Maybe that's why Dante is always fighting with him. He's not patient, either.

If one of them had to be Nero's father, why not Dante? Why did it have to be the villain who almost destroyed the world in his pursuit of power? 

He's changed, Dante said, and Nero remembers V evacuating Red Grave citizens. That's been Vergil too, and Nero chooses to believe that he's more V than Urizen now for his own peace of mind.

Still.

"Why did you leave my mother?" he asks finally.

Vergil doesn't seem surprised at the question. "There wasn't any relationship between us. I wasn't aware of your conception."

Nero winces at Vergil's words, but he makes himself power through it. "And then? You never thought to return?"

Something dark flashes in Vergil's eyes. "And then I couldn't return."

This is as far as their conversation, if it can even be called that, goes that day.

***

They're sparring, just the two of them again, because for all that Dante never seems to leave Vergil's side normally, he has a knack for disappearing when Nero seeks his father out with the intention of getting some answers out of him. 

Nero is sweating. Vergil looks as if he'd just finished morning toilet.

It's almost as if his father is holding back, which is nonsense. Nero has beat him once. Only, he's starting to wonder if Vergil didn't want to be defeated; he certainly looks happy living with Dante now that they're back from hell.

Nero hates this thought, which is why he asks, remembering that dark expression on Vergil's face when he admitted it, "_Why_ couldn't you have returned to me?"

That little _to me_ slipped out of his mouth entirely against his will, but it suddenly doesn't matter, because Vergil's next attack pins him to the ground with the Yamato through his stomach, so fast Nero doesn't realise what's happening before he coughs up blood.

"It was impossible," Vergil says. It is not an accident that from this angle, Nero can't see his face.

"Impossible my ass. Cut the bullshit, _father_," he growls.

"I was not in the place to make that decision," Vergil answers, the same stupid non-explanation in different words. "Cease your questioning, Nero."

There is something in his voice that almost sounds pained, something that Nero would never expect from the demon who raised the Temen-ni-gru, something that he doubts could be faked.

This is why he lets it go. "Touchy subject. Okay."

Well, it was that, and being stabbed on the Yamato fucking hurts, so. Nero breathes in relief when Vergil pulls his katana out and his healing kicks in.

Nero didn't expect the outstretched hand to help him up, but he accepts it easily enough: it feels like _thanks for dropping it_, or maybe _sorry for impaling you_, or maybe it's just a polite fucking gesture without a hidden meaning and Nero should stop overthinking Vergil's every action.

It's only when he's standing and Vergil's still holding him that he realises it's his right hand, and phantom pain flashes through his definitely still attached arm. Vergil must've thought of the same thing, for he steps away until they're not in an arm's reach anymore.

Not that it matters, what with Vergil's terrible inhuman speed.

_Fuck_.

"Why did you do it?" Nero asks, hating the way his voice shakes or how he's grabbing at his own right hand to try and convince his brain it's really there, hating the weakness he must be radiating towards the one person who should never be shown any weakness at all.

Vergil's face betrays no emotion. "I was dying." 

Yeah, like that explains anything at all.

"You were strong for a dying guy, I'll give you that," Nero snaps.

"I am demon," Vergil reminds him almost softly.

"You're human too!"

"A fact that's been made very clear to me recently, yes."

_Bastard_, Nero thinks, only it describes his own lineage better, doesn't it? 

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

The truth of the matter is that Nero wants to have a father, and so he's willing to follow Dante's example in ignoring Vergil's past sins, but sometimes it's so impossibly hard.

Especially when Vergil refuses to explain anything. 

"_Why_ were you dying?"

"It was a preferable state to what came before." Vergil has sheathed the Yamato, but his hand goes to the hilt again. He does that a lot, Nero noticed, touching his weapon as if for comfort. Or a threat, considering he says, in a low voice, "I believe I told you to cease the questioning."

Nero raises his hands, his right arm still itching, and stops pushing—for now.

***

It's an accident due to miscommunication that Nero and Dante meet on a job. They finish it easily enough—the nest of the demons would've been easy work for one of them, let alone both; Nero isn't really satisfied with the fight by the end of it, but he tries to push that side of himself away. Next to him, Dante rolls his shoulders and then stretches his back. 

"I should've kept a better posture in my youth," he complains, which is ridiculous because he's half demon and regenerates any damage instantly. He seems completely relaxed, which means he's anything but that, but Nero can't guess as to what could have his uncle on edge.

He's not any easier to read than Vergil, all things considered, but he feels more human: an illusion, but a comforting one. For all of Dante's horrifying strength, _he_ at least has never tried to murder a multitude of humans.

"You know, Nero," Dante speaks then, his voice more serious than earlier. "Vergil might have many faults, but he doesn't lie."

Nero immediately tenses. Dante's still smiling, his favourite mask trying to fool others into thinking he's happy and harmless, but there's a distanced look in his eyes that's more Vergil than him. 

"Cool," Nero answers. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather have a liar for a father than a murderer."

Dante chuckles, resignation etched into the lines of his face. "We don't have the comfort of choosing our fathers."

"You can talk, Son of Sparda." Nero stares at him with disbelief. "Your father was a hero—"

"And look where it got him. Us." Dante sighs. "Look, forget it. Vergil said you might have a question."

Nero inhales in surprise. That's the last thing he expected, but for all that Dante's clearly offering him answers at Vergil's request, Nero's temper flares. 

"He _knows _my questions, seeing how he refused to answer," he snaps. "So if the asshole can't talk to me himself—"

"_Nero_." Dante's voice is low and dangerous. His eyes glimmer red. "Vergil is . . . You _want_ to have some kind of a relationship with him, don't you?"

Nero looks at Dante's silver hair and blue eyes and wonders, _couldn't it be enough? To have an uncle, if not a father; it's still family, and they are twins; should it matter if he looks for familiarity in Dante and not Vergil?_

But it's not a new question, and the answer remains ever the same. Nero can't explain it, but it _does_ matter, now that he knows the truth. And as long as Vergil doesn't fall back into his old ways, Nero is willing to try. (Nero wants _Vergil_ to try, too; why is it Dante here talking to him instead?)

"I do," he says at last, grumpily, because it's just the truth, and Dante clearly knows, anyway.

"Then don't push him when he tells you to back off," Dante tells him seriously, still almost glowing with his demonic power. It's not a threat to Nero, though, at least not if he obeys; more like . . . Protectiveness extended towards Vergil? Like he needs that with all his immeasurable might.

Nero throws his hands up in frustration. "Then tell me. Why the hell did he never come back? Why was he dying, when he finally did? What could've done that to _him_?"

Abruptly, Dante's power disappears. He looks down, his shoulders hunched. "Me," he admits. 

Nero stares at him without understanding. "What do you mean, you?"

"I didn't even realise it was him." He runs his hand down his face. "Fuck. I'm telling it from the end."

_Heard Dante killed Vergil once_. 

Nero had dismissed it at the moment, too hurt and angry at them both disappearing into hell and not about to rely on Nico's dubious rumours, anyway, since Vergil was very much alive, but. The memories are clearly painful, and Nero doubts there is anyone but Dante who could really stop Vergil, so . . . 

Does Nero really _need_ to know?

Feeling like an absolute ass, he has to admit to himself that yes, he does. It's fucking important, why his father was missing from his life. (Though maybe it was for the best, another part of Nero thinks; what being brought up like Vergil would even be like? Lessons in killing? No, Nero's not going to go down that mental path.)

"Twenty four years ago, he raised Temen-ni-gru," Dante speaks quietly. "We fought, of course. That's just how it was with us. But then he fell. _Let himself_ fall into the Underworld."

Nero stares at him. "Is that a hobby he has?"

Dante doesn't laugh. "He fought Mundus, and he lost."

"Fuck, I—"

"Mundus didn't kill him," Dante speaks over him, staring somewhere in front of himself even though Nero's pretty sure he's not seeing the landscape. "That would've been merciful, I guess. The next time I saw Vergil, ten years later, he was enslaved; encaged in a black armour, called Nelo Angelo. And I didn't recognise him. Not until . . ."

"You killed him," Nero finishes for him quietly.

Dante nods. "I don't know how he survived. I don't know how he came back to being _Vergil_. I don't know how he got out of hell."

_I'm glad he did_, Dante doesn't say, but it's obvious he's thinking it.

Nero slowly closes his right hand into a fist, one finger after another, thinking. 

Ten years in hell, enslaved. Tortured, probably, because Nero doesn't see his father going down easily. 

_The truth is... I wanted to be protected and loved... But I was alone. My only choice was to survive. _

Nero hadn't imagined how much that survival could've cost. And it doesn't excuse what Vergil did after (nothing could do that), just as it doesn't make Nero magically forgive him for everything, but he thinks he might understand his father better now.

A terrifying concept.

"Does that satisfy your curiosity?" Dante asks, and it's such a Vergil thing to say, Nero's torn out of his thoughts.

"Yeah." Nero shuffles awkwardly. "I won't ask him again. Sorry."

"All good, kid," Dante says, but the haunted look doesn't leave his eyes. 

He's told Nero the truth because Vergil had asked him to, Nero realises, but it wasn't easy for him either.

"Come on, old man," Nero says. "I'll buy you a pizza."

***

The next time Nero sees his father is weirdly mundane, but that was his plan. He's not quite ready to invite Vergil to his home yet, not really because he thinks he'd harm Kyrie or the kids, but because, well, the first and last time he was there still features in Nero's nightmares. He's not sure _he_ wouldn't attack Vergil, if they were to go close to his garage. Instead he invited Vergil to a cafe, the way normal humans might meet up. 

Vergil sits across from him. He's not wearing his coat and vest for once, instead sporting a simple dark blouse that looks like it might actually be Dante's. Perks of having a twin, Nero thinks: you don't need to go clothes shopping after spending over twenty years in hell. The Yamato is still at his side, but Nero can't judge; he has his sword too. 

But god, staring at the menu with Vergil is awkward.

_I talked to Dante_, he considers saying, but there's no point: Vergil must already know, and he obviously does not want to breach the subject ever again. 

Nero coughs. "I don't know if you like chocolate cake, but theirs is to die for."

Vergil tilts his head, somehow interested. "I do, in fact." He hesitates. "Do you enjoy jasmine tea?" It comes out as a question, which Nero is sure hasn't been Vergil's intention. 

"Never had it." He shrugs. "But might as well try."

Maybe there are similarities between them that Nero can enjoy. The same taste in food is safe enough, nothing like the voice at the back of his head demanding more power. 

(_Twenty-four years in hell_, Nero remembers again; a good thing Vergil even has a taste for something other than blood.)

The tea, when they get it, is very good, delicate and refreshing. Nero has to stop himself from drinking it all at once. Vergil holds his own cup carefully, having only sipped a bit, his back ramrod straight: a picture of elegance, even in casual clothes.

"Kyrie would like it," Nero says suddenly. 

"She means a great deal to you," Vergil notes. "Tell me about her."

Nero didn't think Vergil would ask about his life, so for a moment, he's not sure what to say. Kyrie is . . . everything to him, really; her and the kids. It's not something Nero can explain in words, especially since he's rather sure Vergil has never loved anyone the way Nero loves her. 

He tries anyway. He doesn't tell Vergil about his childhood, but he does tell him Kyrie and Credo were his only family. He talks of how Kyrie grounds him, of how she's so human and yet so strong. Of how he called her, before he ran to stop Vergil and Dante from killing each other.

Vergil raises a corner of his mouth in what could be a smile, but he only says, "I see."

"I can't imagine my life without her," Nero says softly. 

Vergil nods. "_That's_ why you need power. To protect her."

Nero almost jumps. "I don't—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Vergil's eyes are on him, cold, but not judging: almost understanding. Nero can't lie in the face of that, not when Vergil already knows the truth. 

"Okay," Nero admits. "Yeah. The Yamato—she helped."

Vergil briefly looks at his weapon. "She does that," he agrees.

"But I wouldn't—" He doesn't finish again. He wouldn't raise the Temen-ni-gru, or he wouldn't eat the Qliphoth's fruit, or just he wouldn't make any of his father's numerous mistakes.

"Perhaps. You are more human." Vergil's eyes glow briefly; it's all Nero can do not to reach for his sword immediately. Vergil is deadly dangerous, and his demon more so, almost too fast to counter when already holding a weapon but just as capable of tearing someone to shreds with brute strength.

He's _not_ human; why is Nero even trying to do normal human things with him, why is he trying to have a father?

Vergil continues talking as if he's reading Nero's mind and answering for him. "Perhaps not. You are a demon, too. And not any demon: my son."

"Yeah, _father_." They are family and it's _important_, but Nero is nothing like him where it matters. "Look where your decisions got you."

Vergil smiles. There are too many teeth in it. "A happy ending point, don't you think?"

Nero can't even argue that. "Some would say you don't deserve it."

"_Some_," Vergil repeats like it's a curse. "And you?"

Nero shrugs. "V was a good guy. And Dante's happy now."

Vergil is still looking at him with those inhuman eyes. "I'm asking about you."

Are there truth spells in reality? Is it why Nero feels like he never can lie to him? 

"I always wanted to know about my parents," he admits. "I'm glad for the chance."

Vergil chuckles. "Not what you hoped for, obviously."

Nero shakes his head. "I didn't _hope for_ anything, Vergil. I wanted to know, I wasn't interested in daydreaming about illusions."

But things would be so much easier if it were Dante and not Vergil, or preferably if Nero's parents were _normal_. If he didn't have a demon at the back of his head who demanded blood and violence—easy enough to subdue and ignore, normally, but not something Nero wanted to deal with to begin with. 

Vergil raises an eyebrow. Always demanding the truth that he so rarely gives. "I thought you were Dante's, as V. I'm sure you would've preferred that to be true."

So that's how he wants it to be. 

"Fuck you," Nero declares. "_Yes_, I could've done without my father being a villainous demon. Happy now?"

Vergil nods, seemingly satisfied. "You never need lie to me, Nero."

_Because I can't say anything worse than you could think of, than what you did yourself, that what you were put through_? Nero wonders quietly.

Vergil looks all human again in the next moment, and they finally get their cakes. Nero doesn't quite relax, but Vergil eases off with the questions, and the sight of him almost inhaling his cake is enough to make Nero crack a smile.

***

Here's a fact: Nero does _not_ need help in fighting demons.

Here's another: apparently there _is_ something to be said about fighting at his father's side and not against him, their shared blood calling out to each other as they complete each other's movements.

Well.

Mostly complete, anyway, Nero corrects himself as he has to quickly jump to the side to avoid being cut in half with the Yamato.

Nero has witnessed the twins fighting before and he hadn't joined in: not because their enemies were already overpowered by the brothers, though that was true, but because Dante and Vergil _know_ each other. They fight with each other as if they'd never done anything else, their movements an extension of each other in a perfect balance, never leaving any side open to hits and never stumbling as they move out of the way for the others' attack—and never actually warning each other with words. 

He can never hope to join that dance.

He's not as in harmony with Vergil as Dante was—and that's probably a twin thing anyway—but they manage to work together better than expected. For all that Nero has to make sure to avoid Vergil's wide attacks, neither of them injures the other, and that is a victory in Nero's books, considering.

Fighting at V's side was completely different, obviously, but Nero trusted him to keep his back safe, and he finds he trusts Vergil with that, too. 

Obviously, that's when Vergil decides to attack _Nero_ after striking the last demon down. 

Nero parries it.

Vergil gives him an approving smile over their crossed swords. "Good reflexes."

He sheathes the Yamato, but Nero knows it doesn't necessarily mean anything, with Vergil's fighting style, so he doesn't lower his defence.

"I thought demon hunting was Dante's gig," he says. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Am I not allowed to help?" Vergil asks curiously.

"Like you _care_."

"About you?" Vergil clarifies.

"About humanity!" Nero yells. He's not going to touch what Vergil suggested, because, yeah, no, he won't willingly burn himself on the fire Vergil so effortlessly provides. "As, you know, is the morally right thing!"

"Morally right." Vergil laughs, a sound too deep for an entirely human throat. "Is that truly your concern?"

"Yes!" Nero stares at his father with exasperation.

"I saw you fight," Vergil drawls. "It's demons you kill, so it doesn't matter if you make them suffer?"

_But it's fun_, Nero's demon speaks up lazily, and Nero stomps down on those instincts as hard as he can.

He doesn't need his own soul proving Vergil right.

"You're not human, Nero," Vergil tells him almost gently, a reminder that Nero definitely does not need. "I suppose I could note that Dante plays with his prey too."

And if any of Dante's human clients ever saw him fighting, they'd run away screaming, praying he won't go after them next.

Nero wonders if that was his father's attempt at _comfort_. 

However unsettled Nero might be, though, a part of him _is_ grateful. He's more human than his father and uncle, but he isn't like Kyrie, or even like Credo was. He doesn't like it, but there are moments he craves violence, and neither Vergil nor Dante will ever judge him for that. 

"Well." He shuffles awkwardly. "I'll be going back, then. Nico is parked nearby, if you want to go with us."

"I have no need for human modes of transport," Vergil replies. 

Ah. The Yamato, of course, which is for the better, really: a van trip with Vergil would be incredibly uncomfortable.

Vergil nods at him before cutting through the reality itself to open himself a passage back to Devil May Cry, or so Nero assumes.

"Ah. To answer the previous question, I do," he says before crossing through.

_Previous question_?

Nero stares at his father's back disappearing and then just the normal landscape as the portal flickers out, his mind reminding him of the childish accusation he'd thrown: _because you care_, and the response, _About you?_

No, Vergil couldn't have meant that.

***

Nero is trying another tea at Vergil's recommendation (a blend of various black teas with roses, he's learnt, and who could've thought that he'd ever enjoy fancy teas?), this time in the Devil May Cry office, when his father rests his hand on the Yamato.

"You fixed her."

Nero shakes his head. "Nah. That was luck. Or, well, Dante said she'd reacted to me."

"I see." Vergil runs his hand down the sheathed blade. Nero doesn't ask _how_ she broke—he has a guess. "You have my thanks." And then, before Nero can react, he smoothly stands up. "Spar with me," he says, which is unusual: their fights tend to be a spur-of-the-moment decisions, drawing blades because it's the only way the demons in them can talk, not something _planned_.

"Figures tea would come after," Nero says, but he stands up, never one to refuse a fight.

"We'll try another blend later, Nero."

No one else says Nero's name quite like Vergil, always making sure to pronounce each sound correctly like it's a new word he's trying out. He hasn't named him, but every time he says _Nero_ in this low voice of his, it's as if he baptizes him anew.

Nero follows him through a portal to remote grounds where they can both let go without worrying about witnesses and damage.

And then Vergil smiles thinly, sheathes the Yamato again and extends her to Nero, clearly offering her to him. 

Nero stares at him.

"I want to see you use her once," Vergil explains, except it doesn't explain anything at all. "You _are_ my son."

Nero's seen how Vergil is with the Yamato, giving her away—even for ten minutes—means a lot. He's _scared_ of accepting, he realises, but he also knows that refusing is not an option. Vergil wouldn't forgive him for that.

And Nero did want him to try and reach out, too. But this is Vergil reaching out more than Nero thought possible.

"And what will you use?" Nero asks, not taking her just yet. "Can't quite see you with the Red Queen."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Vergil says, though the look of disdain he gives Nero's weapon doesn't escape him. 

Nero can't answer that, really, so he nods and takes the Yamato from Vergil. 

She's different, he feels immediately. Happier, if weapons can be happy—then again, she's a Devil Arm, and one clearly reunited with her rightful owner. Nero is sure she won't appreciate being used not only by someone else than Vergil, but also against him, even if it is just a sparring match. 

He holds her in his left hand at his side and looks at his father, waiting.

Vergil smirks and extends his hand in a gesture Nero recognises from Dante. He understands why in the next moment, when the Devil Sword Dante materialises in Vergil's hand. 

"I didn't know you could do it," he says, admiring against himself. 

"We _are_ twins," Vergil reminds him, but there's so much more hiding in his eyes: trust and understanding extending far beyond what Nero can imagine, a history darker than what little Dante had told him, the quiet comfort of _belonging_.

Fighting Vergil like this is infinitely harder. Nero never really fought with the Yamato—she augmented his power, but he didn't know how to wield a katana; using her in his demon arm was preferable—but he's not about to admit that to Vergil, and anyway, he'd fought against him enough to know at least some of his moves. 

It's annoying how smooth Vergil is with Dante's sword, in comparison, though for all Nero knows, he's practiced with it before. It's almost like fighting Dante; Nero wonders if that's a twin thing, too, the ease with each they wield each other's weapons—he remembers Dante using the Yamato, back when they'd met for the first time.

Vergil has him on the ground sooner than Nero would like to admit, but he doesn't pin him down this time. Small mercies: Dante's sword would hurt so much more than the sleek, elegant blade of the Yamato.

"Hm," Vergil says, dismissing the Devil Sword Dante. 

Nero stands back up and offers him the Yamato back before he thinks to take it himself. He probably wouldn't tear it from Nero's grasp with his arm this time, but better safe than sorry, right?

Vergil nods his thanks at him as he ties her at his waist.

"Not a katana, then." It's a cold evaluation, but devoid of scorn. "Not a bad thing, I suppose. If you prefer a regular sword, we have a collection to choose from without having to find the right demon to kill first."

_Wait, what_?

"I have a sword," Nero reminds him.

"Yes, and it is admirable for something human-made, but a day will come you will need a true Devil Arm," Vergil states like it's an indisputable fact. "I assumed you might want a katana of your own, especially since you'd had the Yamato in your possession, but your style truly is more like Dante's."

Nero looks hard for disappointment in that sentence, but finds none, so he just shrugs. "Thought that was obvious, Vergil. I like guns, too."

"Yes, but I'm afraid that can't be helped at this point."

Nero fires at him on principle; Vergil neatly slashes the bullets in half. "_Just_ like Dante," he says again. When he speaks next, his voice is more serious. "Our father gave us our weapons, the Yamato and the Rebellion. It's only fitting that I find the right Devil Arm for you."

Is _that_ what this is all about? Honestly. Nero shakes his head. He supposes he won't be against receiving a weapon actually suited to him, since it clearly matters to Vergil. And . . . Vergil extended a hand towards him; Nero can do the same. He makes a split decision. "You should come for lunch tomorrow."

The surprise at receiving the invitation is clear in Vergil's face; possibly the only time Nero's actually seen him shocked. 

He can surprise him some more, Nero thinks, and pulls his father into a hug. It's awkward, really, as if Vergil's not all that familiar with the concept, but he doesn't actually push Nero away, so it must be okay. After a few moments, he relaxes slightly and wraps his arms around Nero, too. 

He'd never known until now that he wanted his father to just embrace him, show him a very human acceptance this way. His demon was happy with the continued sparring sessions, but Nero _is_ mostly human.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Vergil beats him to it.

"Thank you, Nero."

Back on the Qliphoth, the words sounded like a mockery. Now, they feel real and honest in a way piercing Nero to his core.

"You're welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Awkward as it sounds, considering the topic of this fic, I feel like I need to ask: if you have any thoughts on Nero's mother, please do not discuss them with me. Similarly, if you feel differently on the topic of Nero's approach to discovering his biological family, that's totally fine, but please don't tell me about it. I rarely leave notes like this, but I'd be uncomfortable if the topic came up otherwise.
> 
> Also, this fic has a [twitter post](https://twitter.com/tonytears/status/1160694451427303429) too!


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